


Pounce

by helens78



Category: King Arthur (2004) RPF
Genre: Dominance/submission, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-29
Updated: 2004-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keira thinks Ioan would make a beautiful pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pounce

Ioan's been after her since the day she hit the set. Keira knows it; she knows what it's like being wanted.

Being wooed isn't new, either. But the way Ioan does it is intriguing. He's thirty years old, more than ten years her senior, and he's treating her like a lady and not a teenager.

He opens doors for her. Picks things up when she's dropped them. She's been wondering what he'd do if they needed to cross a muddy road on a wet day -- if he'd take off his jacket and drop it over the puddles so she wouldn't have to get her feet wet, like in the old movies. She hopes not. Mud won't hurt her, and there's only so much protection she'll take before she starts to bristle.

Keira flirts with most of the knights, but Ioan's the one who keeps getting her attention. He's the one who doesn't have more than a drink or two when they go out, so he can be sure to drive her home. He volunteers to stay on set late while she gets out of her makeup, ready to give her a lift to dinner or her hotel room or wherever she wants to go.

He's not a puppy, not quite, but he'd make a beautiful pet.

Late one night when he's taken her home, she turns to him and ruffles fingers through his hair. It's the sort of gesture he wouldn't put up with from anyone else. Not even Clive, as much as he adores him. The affectionate little tousle is a test of sorts, and when he takes it and just smiles, Keira smiles back. He's passed it.

"What would you do for a kiss?" Keira asks.

"Just about anything," Ioan says, bright-eyed.

Keira thinks it over, runs her fingers down the side of his face.

"Come upstairs."

Keira's room is neat, sparse, nothing in it to make it seem more lived-in. It doesn't matter. Ioan's eyes take in everything, and he follows her inside as she turns on a few lights and goes to the couch to set her bag down and toss her coat over the back.

"Have a seat," she offers, pointing at an armchair. Ioan sits down, and Keira wonders if he's nervous.

She's not. And it shows in her movements as she comes up and straddles him, knees tucking in tight on either side of his hips, squeezing into the chair with him and sliding both hands into his hair again, pinning his head to the chair's back.

He looks as if he wants to say something, but the only thing that happens is his mouth opening in a wide "O" of surprise. He slides his hands up to her hips, hesitating just a little before settling them there.

"Just about anything," Keira repeats, sliding her tongue out over her lips. "Are you sure?"

Ioan mirrors her gesture, tongue-over-lips, but it takes him two tries to say anything. "I'm sure," he gets out, finally, and he shifts underneath her, trying to adjust his erection without being too obvious about it, glad she's not sitting any closer.

"All right," Keira whispers. "_Don't move._"

He doesn't mean to. He wouldn't dare. But when her tongue moves over his lips, tastes him, flicks at the corners of his mouth and doesn't quite dip inside, he shivers all over.

"I thought I said _don't move_," Keira growls, soft and hungry, and she takes one hand out of his hair and slides it down his chest, all the way down between his legs, between _her_ legs, down until the heel of her hand's against his cock and her fingers are sliding underneath, cupping his balls.

Ioan jerks forward, eyes closing, mouth falling open, and the only thing that keeps him from slamming into Keira is her grip in his hair, immediately tight. She dodges to the side, brushes her cheek against his as her lips move to his ear. "What's the matter?" she breathes, then presses her hand down hard.

"Noth-- nothing-- can't--" His words are panted out of him, and his fingers tighten on her hips. He's not taking liberties. He just _needs_, needs to move and can't, needs more of her hand on him and can't ask for it, needs her mouth on him again and is afraid he's already been given all he'll get. _What would you do for a kiss?_, she asked, and he's already offered her _just about anything_. What else is there to offer?

"Can't what?" Keira murmurs, fingers caressing, hand rocking. "What can't you do for me?" She pulls her face back, watches the expressions on his face, the way his eyes are closed, and squeezes his cock. _Hard_ this time. "What can't you do?"

"Please," he breathes. His eyes open and lock on hers. "What do you want me to do?"

And ah, those are the magic words, the ones that have Keira pulling herself off his lap and sitting down at his feet, rubbing her hand over his knee. "Get your jeans down," she says.

Easy enough to do; he doesn't even think about it before he's pulling them down around his thighs, stopping when her hand on his knee keeps him from going further. She's still on the floor, eyes on his, but now his cock's out and he's blushing a bit from realizing that. "Should I-- do you want to--?" The half-questions come out, but he has no idea how to finish them.

She rubs at his knee with her fingertips. "Toss off for me."

_Oh._ Ioan thought he was red before. He's crimson now. But he doesn't object. He wraps a hand around his cock and licks his lips. "Like this?" he asks.

"Like you would if I weren't here," she tells him.

He nods and sits back in the chair a bit, parts his legs as much as his jeans allow. The strokes up the length of his cock go a little faster, and as strange as it is to have an audience, he's starting to lose his nervousness and gain a little confidence.

When he opens his eyes and sees Keira looking at him, that confidence turns into just a hint of bravado. _She's watching. She's getting off on it. She told me to do this._ And so he turns his hand a little on the upstroke, a more showy motion. "Like this?" he asks, tongue sliding over his lips again.

"Oh, just like that," Keira purrs, kneeling up now, both hands on his knees. "How does it feel?"

"Good," Ioan offers, then mentally shakes himself; _of course_ it feels good. "Exciting." Hell, and that's not much better. "I like--" He groans, a particular uptwist feeling altogether too good for words. "Like that you're watching," he breathes, panting hard now, _wanting_ so badly but unable to put a finger on what or _why_.

"I like watching you," Keira says, reaching forward, scratching her fingernails lightly down his arm. "I've liked watching you since we met. And now I want to see you come for me. Do you want to come for me?"

"_Yes,_" Ioan gasps, almost choking on the word, and he does come, eyes closing, one pulse after another working its way out of his cock and coating his hand with wet, sticky fluid.

He doesn't stop until Keira puts a hand on his wrist. She runs fingers through his hair, slicking it away from his face while he sweats and pants the way he would if he'd been out running for an hour. When her lips brush his cheekbone, he turns into her touches, moaning very quietly.

"That was _gorgeous_," Keira whispers.

"I-- I don't-- didn't--" Ioan nearly curses at himself; he's thirty, damn it, not a teenager, and he should _not_ be stuttering now.

"It's all right," Keira says, kneeling up further and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "You were perfect. I loved that."

"But I haven't done anything for you," he whispers. "Don't you want...?"

"All of that was for me," Keira chuckles, nuzzling at his cheek, point of her tongue dancing around his ear. She reaches across him for the tissues on the end table, then presses a few of them into his hand so he can clean up. He's blushing to the tips of his ears by the time he finishes, and he struggles into his jeans, trying to figure out what to do next. He hasn't been invited to stay, and if she doesn't want anything in exchange for that -- God, he's confused.

"It's getting late," Keira says, finally pulling herself away from Ioan and standing, digging her hands into her pockets. "I have to be on early tomorrow to have the paint done." She rocks back on her heels and looks at him from under her lashes. "Would you like to come and watch?"

"_Oh._" Ioan feels all his breath come out of him in a rush. "Yes, I -- yes. I'd like that. You don't think anyone would mind?"

"_I_ don't mind," Keira grins, "so I don't see why anyone else would."

"Then I -- yes. Please."

"Good, then. Tomorrow." Keira takes a step back, starting to pivot on her heel, as if she's ready to show him out.

Ioan comes off the couch and catches her arm. "Wait -- please. Can I -- can I kiss you again before I go?" His grip on her is tighter than usual, fingers tense. It doesn't hurt, but it's not what she's accustomed to. "Please."

"You can have almost anything you want if you say _please_ like that," Keira murmurs. "Go on. Take your kiss."

_Take._ Ioan nods and steps close, leaning down carefully.

And Keira stops him before his lips meet hers, taking a step back. "No," she says, shaking her head. "_Take_ it."

This time Ioan thinks he understands. His arm comes out, grabs her around the waist and drags her close. He threads his fingers into her hair and tilts her head back, and lands his lips on hers, tongue thrusting in hard and deep, _taking_.

Keira's tongue is wicked and fast, licking up the length of his as he tries to take everything he can. He's going home tonight, alone, and he wants to remember how she tasted, how she felt, what it was like feeling her pressed up against him while her tongue licked against his and he felt himself wanting to give over as much as he wanted to take.

By the time he lets her go, she's breathing hard. "Ohh..." She reaches up and runs her fingertips over his beard. "We're going to be so fucking good together," she whispers.

"Aren't we already?" Ioan asks.

Keira just smiles.

_-end-_


End file.
